


Loneliness

by VitaLupum



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitaLupum/pseuds/VitaLupum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt from Salmon about little Tim meeting Masky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loneliness

            Tim was in bed, arms wrapped around his Buzz Lightyear toy, when the scratching at the window woke up him.

            His brown eyes opened, blinking in dazed puzzlement, and then he slid his legs out from under the covers, dropping the short distance to the floor, and dragged his toy plastic chair to the window, climbing up on it to see out.

            The back yard was normal; moonlight cast black shadows against a silver backdrop, the kennel a tiny house in one corner, his trike still lying in the middle of the grass. Mommy would probably shout at him for leaving it out to be rained on, but it wasn’t his fault he  _forgot_. He was just forgetful, sometimes. He got headaches, and then he forgot things. Simple.

            And then he noticed the man sitting in the tree outside of his window.

            He was not scared; the man wore a funny white mask that was silver in the luminescence of the moon, and a big jacket. He opened the latch very quietly, like he had watched Mommy do even though he wasn’t supposed to, and then leant out.

            “Hey, Mister.”

            The Masked Man turned to face him, and Tim smiled.

            “Why are you sat in my tree, mister?”

            The man did not reply, instead watching him through brown eyes that Tim could barely see through the mask. Maybe this man was like Santa, Tim reasoned. Santa came in the night and got in the chimney, and the only way onto the roof was either a ladder or the tree. Maybe he’d just gotten stuck. Maybe he was afraid of heights, like Mommy.

            “Are you Santa?” Tim asked, narrowing his eyes, and the man stared at him for another moment before shaking his head. “Oh.” He gave it a few seconds consideration. “Why are you all alone?”

            No response, but he was suddenly sad for the person outside the window.

            “Do you want to come in, mister?”

            The man looked at him for a moment longer, and then climbed across tentatively, sliding in through the window. Tim stood back, and then looked around.

            “Do you like toy cars?” he asked, and the man nodded, sitting down on the rug. He had his shoes on, inside, but Tim thought taking your shoes off at the door was a silly rule anyway, so he sat opposite him and picked out the bucket of cars, placing them between them. “We have to be quiet, because Mommy was crying and now she’s sleeping.”

            The Masked Man nodded, and accepted the toy car that Tim handed him.

            “That’s called a  _poor-shuh_ ,” Tim said slowly. “But it’s spelt kind of like Porch, because it’s foreign. It’s a nine-eleven, like the police.” The Masked Man stared at it, and then drove it along the floor. “It’s really fast. At least, that’s what Uncle Mike said.”

            The Masked Man nodded, and when Tim had selected his own favourite toy car, a bright purple racing-car that had three wheels from where he had once dropped it on a bus, they had a race on Tim’s rug, that was actually a map of some roads of a cartoon town.

            “So who are you?” Tim asked, and the Masked Man shrugged. “Everybody has a name. I’m going to call you Masky. Because you wear a mask,” he added, in case the man had not gripped the near-adult-level-logic of this.

            The Masked Man nodded, and Tim looked at him.

            “You looked lonely. Don’t you have any friends?” he asked, and Masky shook his head. Tim’s brow furrowed. “But everyone has a friend. Do you want me to be your friend?”

            Masky stared at him, and Tim took his hand, smiling brightly at him.

            “I’ll be your friend.”

* * *

            A few hours later, dawn was beginning to streak the Alabama sky pink, and Masky was about to climb out of the window when Tim began to cry a little.

            Masky stopped, and knelt in front of Tim, staring at him in confusion.

            “I don’t… I don’t have any other friends, so I get lonely too. Will you come back?” Tim snuffled, tears running down his cheeks, and Masky nodded, before hooking his fingers behind his mask and lifting it from his face, handing it to Tim.

            He looked a lot like an old picture of his Daddy that Tim had seen once; thick sideburns and almost-sad brown eyes. His Mommy had once said he would be the spitting image of his Daddy, but as Tim looked at the man in his room, he thought he was probably be more like this guy.

            “Bye,” he grinned, and the man nodded, before climbing out of the window and vanishing down the tree. Tim placed the mask over his face, and dragged his chair over to the mirror, where he inspected it critically.

            It would fit his face one day.


End file.
